


Next We Fly Into the Stars

by beyondantares



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-09-14 19:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9198851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyondantares/pseuds/beyondantares
Summary: The Rogue One team barely makes it out alive, some the worse for wear, and others are... late. A few of them lose a home, some gain a home, one leaves a home.  It may take them some time to grow into their lives after Scarif, but for now, friends are all they have. It's a war; crazy things happen and emotions blossom.





	1. One

The acrid air burned his lungs for each ragged gasp. With each breath, with each step, pain tore at his body from the inside out. Jyn’s limping support both kept him moving and sent waves of agony ebbing from his battered ribs and right arm. Cassian finally crashed to his knees in the sand, closing his eyes to enjoy this feeling—the thud of his knees, the force travelling through each bone, each sinew, up through this body that would soon be gone. Gone, like the flying mist turning into flame up ahead, though the waters at his fingertips yet remained cool. 

Jyn’s gloved hand slipped into Cassian’s own. He squeezed it, harder than he meant to, and felt her answering grip—a reminder they were alive, if only briefly. She tugged, and he went. As his arms went around her, Jyn angled them so Cassian faced away from the impending shock wave. He was grateful for this, perhaps selfishly so. It made it so he faced the ashes and ruin rather than a glowing sunrise, but that was how Cassian lived. He belonged where the dirt smudged like hair on his jaw and a blaster burned the air in his mouth, where the only warmth allowed was in the eyes of— _Bodhi_.

“Come on!”

In an instant, Cassian was scrambling up and tugging mindlessly on Jyn’s elbow, all thoughts of death forgotten because Bodhi was before him, bringing _Rogue One_ down within leaping distance. Jyn gasped, and for a second, the image of Saw Gerrera stoically refusing to escape death flashed across Cassian’s mind. Then, she was up and running with him, away from the shockwave rising like a snake from the seas. Too slow, surely it was snapping at their heels already—they leapt, and a bruising grip on their forearms dragged them up into the still-opening hatch. All three cried out, a cacophony of life as they pulled away from the edges of the shockwave. Cassian slid backwards as the ship lurched back to speed, panic freezing his frantically beating heart, but the inexorable pull never let up until the door sealed with a cough.

Cassian lifted his head from the cargo bay floor. “I have never been happier to see you in my life,” he told the face of Baze Malbus floating above him.

“You only met me yesterday,” grunted Baze, but his eyes were warm and kind. “All right, Jyn?”

Jyn groaned and rolled over slowly, nodding. Cassian was sorely tempted to curl in on himself and cradle a definitely broken right arm. Instead, he forced himself up, though his hips burned fiercely from crashing into solid metal. Baze helped him up, pushing him towards the ladder. “You’d better get up there. Bodhi needs you.”

“Who else?” asked Cassian, pausing with a hand on a rung.

Baze just shook his head, slipping down to his knees. Jyn had simply crawled over to one side and hauled herself into a sitting position, looking over the body beside her. Baze bowed over to a long, dark mass sporting a gash of red silk at one end, and Cassian’s stomach twisted.

 “Is he… all right?” Cassian whispered.

“He’s alive.” Baze’s hair shadowed his face. Chirrut lay with his head turned towards the wall. A thin strip of pale blue slipped past his dirtied eyelids, crusted with blood and black soot. More blood slipped slowly down a temple and curved past his ear. Cassian swallowed. If it weren’t for the slow rise and fall beneath Baze’s hand on his chest, he would’ve assumed Chirrut dead. Cassian bit the inside of his cheek. “Go on,” said Baze without looking up. “I’ll be here for Chirrut.”

Cassian nodded and began to climb unsteadily up into the cockpit, his hands shaking and slipping. He heaved himself onto the upper deck at last, trembling with the effort. Bodhi’s shoulders tensed as he reached around to flip several controls. Cassian eased into the chair next to him and assisted with the preparations for hyperspace. Bodhi glanced over once, then refocused forwards. His knuckles bled white around the controls. Cassian’s chest tightened as he followed Bodhi’s unseeing gaze out where the ruins of battle faded into a black beyond, broken only by streaks of star systems racing past. From below, they heard a quiet litany:

 “… the Force is with me, and I am one with the Force. The Force is with us, and we are one with the Force. The Force is…”

 “Are you hurt?” said Cassian at last.

Bodhi shook his head. Finally he mentioned, “They threw a grenade into the ship.” Cassian’s breath seized up entirely. “They threw a grenade in,” Bodhi continued, “and I threw it back out. It got far away enough that the blast didn’t hurt much, but I’m worried the ship’s got damage outside.”

“Never mind the ship,” said Cassian, chest aching for an entirely different reason. He placed his hands very gently over Bodhi’s. He loosed the pilot’s bony grip, forcing him to turn and meet Cassian’s eyes. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

Bodhi tilted his head. “You were counting on me,” he said, like that was the only explanation necessary.

The tight lines on Cassian’s face eased a little. Releasing Bodhi, he sank back into his chair and tried to wash back the incessant pain by focusing on the whispers of their own breaths—in, hold, out, hold. Earlier, a full crew of allies and rebels like him, spies and killers and lovers and believers, all breathed to the same rhythm. They had believed in a dream, and it had cost most of them their lives. From then on, it was easy to let his mind turn to grief. Cassian ached for K-2, his free hand ghosting over where his jaw still twinged from the impromptu slap. He pictured Jyn where he left her, eyes closed and shoulders slumped, and grieved for her father too. Cassian thought of his friends below, the warrior and the monk. He remembered their joint meditation while imprisoned on Jedha. Well, really only Chirrut had meditated, while Baze watched him for a while then circled around the cell to a spot at his back. Even with the short distance often between them, those two always carried a current of understanding, a binding coil Cassian suddenly envied. With a jolt, he came back to himself.

He checked the computer; no, they weren’t ready for the break to realspace yet. It took Cassian a second to realise it was completely, utterly silent below. He and Bodhi shared a wide, fearful look. An outburst of wild sobs nearly drove Cassian out of his seat, until his broken bones stopped him.

“Stay here,” said Bodhi firmly, pushing him back, but a set of boots on the ladder stopped him from making it downstairs.

“They’re fine,” said Jyn before her torso was even all the way into the cockpit. “They’re both fine.” She came up between the boys briefly to look out the window, resting a hand on both their shoulders, then smiled and retreated. Jyn then curled up on the floor in the limited space behind the chairs and immediately went to sleep, her breath evening out and quieting.

Relief eased the rest of the journey home. Cassian peeked out of the corner of this eye as Bodhi readied the ship to leave hyperspace. He wondered dimly whose pinpricks of blood dotted the sweat and dirt mixing in the shadows and planes of Bodhi’s profile. Those heavy, white goggles still perched above his emaciated face like a comical, oversized crown, and Cassian itched to clean them, just in case. Instead, he dug his short nails into his palms and counted the breaths until Yavin 4 splashed back into colour.

He nearly missed Bodhi’s quiet murmur, “I’m glad you’re alive, too.”

 


	2. Shadows and Small-kept Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hospital, a touch of PTSD, and breakfast.

“Clear the tarmac, I repeat, clear below." Bodhi let go of the radio, and it immediately swung down on its cord and smacked Cassian in the temple.

“Ow!”

“Sorry.” Bodhi hung it up properly. He called towards the back, “Hold on, it’s going to be a rough landing!”

Cassian’s injuries had swollen properly in the meantime, but he feebly aided Bodhi as best as he could. True to worry, the many blasts on Scarif had damaged the ship, specifically the landing gear. The uneven thruster power rocked the ship wildly as Bodhi brought it down to earth. The shuttle shuddered and ground against ferrocrete, shaking a groan from Cassian. As soon as it stilled, he breathed out and fumbled for his seatbelt with one hand. Jyn had woken up, so she squeezed in to help get Cassian out. Bodhi and Jyn buckled and grunted initially under his weight, but together they got Cassian back down the ladder. Outside noise spilled jarringly into the ship’s cavernous belly on top of the door’s hydraulic hiss.

A hush fell over the assembly at the sight of so few survivors. Bodhi froze, looking like a bird caught in its nest, with his hands around Cassian’s waist.

“Medics! We need medics,” called Jyn hoarsely, breaking the tableau.

A team waiting on the side rushed up. Chirrut and Cassian were quickly transferred to repulsorlift gurneys, and then they all passed through the hangar, up to another level where living quarters and medical facilities were. Baze kept a hand on Chirrut’s gurney the whole time, while Bodhi walked alongside Cassian’s. Cassian lifted his head at one point and saw Jyn was being supported by a familiar wide-shouldered medic, so he relaxed. The makeshift hospital wing’s sharp, stark sheets and hissing, glowing machines clustered uncomfortably behind the ancient temple’s weathered face. The five of them were deposited on four beds, Baze and Chirrut tipped onto the same one a little ways away from the others. Cassian glanced over as Chirrut briefly lifted a hand to his partner’s face, smiling sweetly through his pain.

“They make you want to grow old, don’t they?” whispered Bodhi, catching him watching.

“That depends,” Cassian grunted woozily. “Only if I don’t end up alone.”

He stared up at the rocks overhead while the medics repaired his body. He noted each block of the temple fit together seamlessly with no apparent mortar or supports. Some edges were crooked like a child’s handwriting, scooping away handfuls from the lines racing across the ceiling, but they always evened out further along. Cassian wished he could see the future as easily.

Bodhi was soon shunted off to the showers. Out of the five, the medics determined his wounds the simplest to treat—basic dehydration, exhaustion, and malnutrition—but Cassian knew those were far more painful than the physical; they ran deeper under the skin than Baze’s blaster burns and Chirrut’s shrapnel. He thought of Bodhi trapped in that dark, musty cell for who knows how long, his sanity slipping out of his grasp. Cassian shivered through the warmth of bacta gel on his abused ribs. No amount of it could help Bodhi, but he still found himself listening for the sound of the showers and waiting for his return.

A medical droid plodded back out and deposited a stack of wrinkled clothing beside Bodhi’s bed before shuffling off to its other duties. Cassian turned his head to avoid looking at the droids applying bacta around his fractured pelvis and studied the uniform with narrowed eyes. He spied more than a few ripped stiches despite the loose way it had hung on Bodhi’s frame, and splotches of oil and dirt stained deep into the faded fabric. Those heavy plastic goggles perched on top. Between that and the Imperial insignia glaring at him accusatorily, Cassian shifted his tender head aside to watch Jyn instead.

She was sitting up straight, gaze flickering rapidly over the medical droid while it applied bacta to her ankle. Cassian caught her eye and sent a soft smile her way, but she only stared back, eyes tight in the corners. Cassian frowned and instinctively tried to lean forward, but since his body was very happy to remain where it was now the fight was over, he only flagged back with a groan.

“What is it?” he offered.

Jyn shifted on the bed, her rough, dirty layers out of place against the crisp, white sheets. “What happens now?”

“Well, first we break out of Medical as soon as possible. Then, we, or I at least, need to report to Draven for debrief. After that…” Cassian shrugged, more a suggestion than a movement.

Jyn merely twisted her hands around a small object in her lap.

“We could use you, you know,” he said gently. “There can be something for you here.”

He watched her unfold her palms to reveal the kyber shard and drop its cord back around her neck. Jyn slid down on the bed by degrees, as if sinking underwater, and lay flat on her back. “A war’s still out there, somewhere.”

“Yes. There always is.”

Her lips parted on an exhale. “I need to find something worth fighting for. My father, Saw Gerrera, so many of your men…”

(Later:

“Have you found it?”

“I have not.”)

Cassian turned away at the mention of those they had lost. “You are welcome to look with us.” He didn’t specify his meaning, and she didn’t ask.

Cassian meant to wait for Bodhi, but a combination of adrenaline, pain, nearly dying, and the release of pain dragged him to sleep, his hands flinching open upon the sheet.

 

He woke hours later, choked on a stabbing breath. His entire chest burned, he tasted blood in his throat, and his legs shook with unfulfilled thrashes. His hands scrabbled uselessly for a hold, but everything gave way under his nails. Dark dreams of shrieking air and bruising flame churned sickeningly with the night atmosphere as panic rose like bile in his stomach.

“Cassian? Cassian, here, it’s Bodhi. Hey, hey, what—What do you need?”

Cassian gasped, a garbled noise torn out of his throat. A slim, surprisingly strong hand caught Cassian’s flailing one, rooting his senses. Cassian blinked liquid out of his eyes until he could make out Bodhi’s face in the darkness. Red on white flashed briefly in his vision, and Cassian shook his head to clear it. The other man breathed rapidly in and out through his open mouth, and Cassian focused on the small movements of his cracked lips. Bodhi’s other hand hovered over his shoulder before touching down, thumb just barely brushing Cassian’s pulse fluttering wildly in his throat.

“What do you need?” those raw lips mouthed on a breath.

“I need—I need water,” whispered Cassian, all the tension leaving his body in a rush.

Bodhi nodded and reached aside without ever letting go. Cassian winced on Bodhi’s behalf and loosened his grip. A water cup touched his lips, and a small stream of water ran down his chin, into his neck, before he could control his mouth. Bodhi caught up a pillow that had slipped aside and eased it behind Cassian’s shoulders without his even asking.

“What time is it?” whispered Cassian.

“Late, I’m not sure,” replied Bodhi apologetically, but Cassian waved it off with their clasped hands.

“I’m sorry to wake you. Are you all right?”

“Yeah. You take good care of your people here.”

Cassian reflexively flicked his fingers at the implication, latching tighter to Bodhi’s hand though he knew it was selfish, he ought to let Bodhi go back to rest. “I.” He licked his lips. “I am not usually like this the first night back.”

“I know,” said Bodhi senselessly. “It’s okay.”

“Did I wake Jyn?” asked Cassian.

Bodhi stretched his neck to check, then shook his head. “She’s still asleep. I was awake already. Do you need a, um, a medic?”

Cassian’s ribs ached beneath the bacta gel wrap, but he signed the negative. “Why weren’t you asleep, too?”

“Too warm. I’m used to being cold at night.” Bodhi was good, but Cassian made his career from lies and diversions. Still, he did notice Bodhi was now wearing the thin, green-grey shirts kept in supply on base. His brown arms poked awkwardly out of the short sleeves into the damp air, and Cassian wondered just how cold he was used to sleeping.

“I don’t know how to fix that,” he admitted.

“That’s okay. This is nice,” said Bodhi simply.

Cassian mumbled his assent, fatigue washing over him again. “Do you want to stay?” he slurred softly.

Bodhi was quiet for a moment. “I do, actually. Hang on.” He untangled his fingers from their slackening grip and brought over a chair from somewhere past Cassian’s peripheral vision.

“That’s all?” asked Cassian, struggling back towards clarity out of concern and for some reason, disappointment.  

“I’ll stay here just until you fall asleep. It’ll help keep you from having another.”

“Thank you for being here. You’d better get some sleep, too.”

“I don’t mind this,” murmured Bodhi, lacing their hands together again.

Cassian barely registered the scent of hospital soap and a small weight depressing the bed near his hand before he drifted off again, this time to peaceful, empty existence.

 

The next time Cassian woke, he surfaced slowly to bright light pressing on his head and soft snuffling from somewhere near his left elbow, which turned out to be Bodhi snoring on his own bed, pushed close. A funny floaty feeling rose through his body, and he wondered briefly if Tuluna had drugged him with something. Cassian watched and smiled for a moment, gritty skin cracking in several places, then turned his head to his other side. The sight of a clean, untouched bed sent a shock through his head like an Imperial stunner, kicking him wide awake. Cassian’s brain worked frantically for a moment and assured him that yes, Jyn had indeed been with them on the trip back to base so no, she was not dead and perhaps, she had been released and gone off to do morning things, which maybe he ought to do as well. Well, at least she’d taken his first bit of advice to heart.

Cassian shifted his hips to test his injuries and winced. Bodhi promptly snuffled a bit louder and twitched in his sleep, jerking Cassian’s attention back and making him forget any ideas of getting up. It was fascinating to watch Bodhi awakening; first his snuffles shortened and varied by breaths, and then the muscles in his face tensed and twitched, bunching at his cheekbones and forehead. He finally brought his head up with a jerk and swung it in a circle, eyes wide with disorientation until they caught Cassian staring.

Cassian blushed but couldn’t look away. “Good morning, Bodhi.”

“Morning.” Bodhi ground the palms of his hands against his eyes. “Why am I in a bed?”

“Because it’s for sleeping?” Cassian guessed.

“But,” said Bodhi, still looking adorably confused about his location, “I was asleep in a chair next to you.”

“Bodhi! That’s terrible, and you should never do that again, not for me. I guess Tuluna must’ve moved you, she’s good like that.” At Bodhi’s blank stare, Cassian prompted, “Scary, shoulders out to here, tan skin? You’ll meet her, don’t worry. How are you feeling?”

“Um,” Bodhi began, looking around as if he expected an answer to appear. “Hungry,” he decided.

“Oh man, we need to feed you. And me,” added Cassian as his stomach growled. “Do you have any special restrictions, dietary preferences, allergies?”

“Um. No?”

“Great! Okay, so—” and here, a medic interrupted Cassian.

“Captain Andor, where do you think you’re going?”

“Ah, Tuluna, I was just wondering when you would come thwart me,” fired Cassian with a cheeky grin.

Tuluna, a senior medic with extremely quick reflexes as Cassian had discovered in the past, huffed and rolled her pale green eyes. “You’re lucky because you _do_ get to leave today, but not before you get another layer of bacta gel.” She snapped her fingers at a droid, more for the warning those wicked fingernails flashed at Cassian than out of necessity.

He subsided to avoid further injury. “Sorry, Bodhi. This will only take a few minutes though, if you don’t mind waiting.”

“Don’t you want me to leave, give you some privacy?” asked Bodhi with a slight frown, his knuckles paling in his lap.

“Nah, it is better with a distraction from the sensation,” grimaced Cassian.

Bodhi smiled a bit once more, and Cassian barely noticed the droid slipping the sheet back indifferently. “What does bacta gel feel like?” Bodhi wondered, pointedly keeping his gaze above Cassian’s waist.

“Well, normally it is great, it fixes everything way quicker and dulls the pain all in one. Right now, though, it feels like a Hutt licked all around my groin,” said Cassian cheerfully.

Bodhi screwed up his face and shook his head from side to side. “Oh, no. I don’t want to know, I don’t, but I hope you haven’t actually experienced that before,” he muttered over Cassian’s chuckles.  

“Don’t worry, I have not,” Cassian reassured him. “However…”

“I regret this,” Bodhi grumbled.

“You boys,” clicked Tuluna. She dismissed the droid and examined Cassian’s other wounds: his broken and bruised ribs, his fractured toes, a dislocated shoulder and fractured ulna in his right arm.

“Where are the others?” piped up Cassian.

“Out.” Tuluna tested his range of sensation, starting from his toes to his hips.

“Ah!” cried Cassian instinctively when she poked him in the chest, though it barely twinged in response. “Is that a medically-approved procedure?” he whined, massaging his sternum.

“Yes,” grunted Tuluna. She batted his hand away and passed her strangely cool fingers over each rib.

“How?”

“I just did it.” She leaned back and produced a metal cane with a curved handle. “All right, you’re cleared for light duties, but you have to check in every day for physical therapy and use this for today to keep weight off your hip. You,” she addressed Bodhi more softly, “are to come in for mental therapy, no excuses.

“What for?” Bodhi looked to Cassian.

“It’s not bad,” he quickly assured him. “It’s to help process your feelings and prevent too many negative emotions from building up. Besides, sometimes it’s just the normal head shit that comes with being alive. I have it every month, but some people have it every week or every two months, all of which are fine.”

Tuluna interceded gently. “You’ve just experienced overwhelming trauma and you probably need help adjusting to life outside the Empire’s control. You’ll be seeing Emra, the base’s psychologist. He’ll explain better but mainly it involves talking with you, suggesting activities, and setting goals to help relieve whatever burden you’re carrying. We want you to come in every day for now, and Emra will adjust accordingly depending on how you manage. Like Cassian said, there’s no right or wrong method.”

“You do it, too?” Bodhi asked Cassian.

“Yes.”

Bodhi worried his lip. “Okay, then.”

Tuluna gave him a rare smile. “Thank you, Bodhi. Well, you two are free to go, and—take care of each other.”

Bodhi jumped up to help Cassian out of bed. Cassian paused in surprise for a moment, but Bodhi tugged on him more insistently so he let himself be levered out of the bed, wielding the cane in his left hand to push himself up. “Bye, Tuluna. Keep up the good work!”

 “Shut up and walk, Andor. Also, I told Draven your debrief could wait until you’d at least eaten, so thank me again later.” Tuluna waved them off and watched with a small, secretive smile until they were out of her sight. She turned, surveyed her empty ward, and gave a single nod of satisfaction.

 

Strangely, Bodhi wouldn’t take any food for himself, though Cassian had specifically observed the flare of his nostrils at the rich steam and the way Bodhi couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from each dish even as he slid his tray past it. He only paused in front of the plainest bowls of porridge, glancing around furtively before snatching one with both hands and sliding it onto the tray close to his body.

“You’re not eating anything else?” Cassian questioned, stopping the line completely before the fruit.

“Um, I’ve had it before,” mumbled Bodhi, not looking at anything but the porridge now.

“Yes, and you were starving!” said Cassian incredulously. “It’s a simple meal on a long-empty stomach, but now, there is warm food to be had.”

Bodhi only stared stubbornly down at his tray.

Cassian made a decision and pushed his own tray forward to keep the line moving. Bodhi followed silently, his shoulders relaxing by his ears. However, Cassian began grabbing one of everything from there forward, anything that looked even remotely digestible for humans. When he dumped two cups of caf and one of milk on Bodhi’s tray because his own was too full, Bodhi jerked his head up, alarmed.

“What? I’m always hungry after a fight,” said Cassian innocently, heading for a small table along the wall. 

He unpiled way too many dishes for one man and shoved a few not-so-subtly towards Bodhi. Cassian dipped his spoon briefly into a gelatinous green blob studded with black seeds.

“Look, here’s a kind of fruit native to Yavin 4. The children like to go out every morning to pick some. It would be good with your porridge, hm?” Bodhi looked at him uncertainly, and Cassian shrugged. “If we don’t eat it, it’ll just go to waste.”

He left it and began tucking energetically into his usual chilaquiles, watching Bodhi out of the corner of his eye. Bodhi tasted the fruit as well, then piled it onto his porridge. He hovered his hand over a cup of dry fluff until Cassian nodded, eyes twinkling. Bodhi added the wool-like meat to his porridge too.

“Thanks,” he said around a spoonful.

Cassian leaned in, sliding one of the mugs and the glass of milk over. “You know, the Rebellion believes in feeding everyone, its soldiers and more. We’ve been especially lucky recently and have plenty of resources. No one will begrudge you this.”

He contented himself with his mug of caf and watched Bodhi sample each dish in turn. The ones he rejected, Cassian simply plucked away and finished, with the exception of some tentacled creature which Bodhi stared at for a minute, shivering slightly. Cassian quickly shoved that one under the growing stack of dirty dishes.

“What will happen to me?” asked Bodhi suddenly, echoing Jyn’s quiet plea the night before.

Cassian took a long sip of caf. “It’s up to you. You’re a good pilot, but if you don’t want that, we can help you find something else to do.”

Bodhi took a breath. “And if I want to leave?”

The floaty feeling that had accompanied Cassian ever since he woke, dropped along with his stomach. “If that’s what you want,” he said levelly, “then we’d help you find a way to do so safely.”

“Huh.” Bodhi continued, “I don’t even know where I’d go. The only home I ever knew was destroyed on Jedha, and there’s no one waiting for me elsewhere.”

Bodhi obliviously dug into some tart dairy product, unaware of the turmoil barely contained across the table. Cassian watched Bodhi lick the bowl clean like he’d never been told not to, and something tugged fiercely in his gut. He wanted Bodhi to stay, he wanted to tell him so, he wanted to tell him—what?

It was a lonely life, as a spy. Cassian crept around the galaxy, extorting and bribing and killing. He spent long flights with only K-2SO for company, but even his friend of 12 years never saw the worst of what Cassian had done, only the aftermath. Kay. Grief struck Cassian’s heart again. Inexplicably, the sight of so much food made it worse, though K-2 had never required meals. It only reminded Cassian that he was very much human, and alone.

“Cassian? Are you all right?” Bodhi’s voice shook him out of his reverie.

“Yeah, I—I need to debrief. They’ve waited long enough.” He stood suddenly, then felt rude and sat back down.

Bodhi looked even more confused. “Did I say something wrong?”

“What? No, I’m sorry, it-it’s nothing.” Cassian passed a hand over his face. He reached out. “I really should go though, so let’s get you settled in first.”

Bodhi took his hand before Cassian could second-guess himself. They rose and stacked the leftover food on one tray, the empty dishes on the other for recycling. Cassian led the way out of the mess hall, taking the food tray with them. He stopped abruptly outside, Bodhi narrowly avoiding crashing into him.

“Uh. Did you get a room assignment?” Cassian asked.

Bodhi shook his head.

“Okay then, we’ll just put you in mine for the time being,” said Cassian, turning down a corridor.

He unlocked the door and ushered Bodhi in, setting the tray on his desk. Bodhi immediately began exploring the admittedly stark quarters with a fascinated expression, and Cassian’s heart ached as he backed his way out of the room. The door slid closed, cutting him off. Cassian leant against it briefly, closing his eyes, before limping away to General Draven’s office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argghhh only my second chapter, and I'm already a week late! Everything is written though, don't worry, so updates should be regular and on Wednesdays from now on. Thank you so so much to everyone who's left kudos and especially comments so far!!! I can't tell you how much you warm my poor heart xx


	3. Whispers in the Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (A brief Baze/Chirrut interlude)

Time warped around them. Baze was used to Chirrut’s reticence, but this was the longest he’d ever had to wait to hear his voice. He had long given up on the ways of the Force despite Chirrut’s insistent belief, but now he at least appreciated the patience he’d learnt to harness during his training as a Guardian.

Breath moved through his body like a song. It sang a lullaby to his aching heart and sent energy cracking down to his fingertips where they aligned beside Chirrut’s. Baze sensed the humming ship beneath his knees, the weight of armor on his shoulders, and solid, ancient hopes on his tongue. He was nothing more than feeling, nothing more than body working frantically, endlessly, beat by beat, to stay alive. Wood in his sinews, fire coursing his blood, earth weighing on his tongue, the tang of metal in his lungs, water washing through his bones, all mixed and fought for balance on a tipping plane. _All is, as the Force wills it_.

When Chirrut woke, he woke as silently and suddenly as he always did.

An electric-blue shock seized Baze and he gasped, thought rushing back into his head like water into a cup. Chirrut was smiling, eyes open and speared unerringly at his target. Baze heaved a sob and dropped his head, pressing his lips to Chirrut’s hand clasped between both of his own.

[Easy, my love,] Chirrut murmured in their native language, stroking his other hand through Baze’s wild hair.

[I’ll weep as I please, so long as you keep scaring me,] Baze choked out.

“How could I have scared you, when I was here all along?” questioned Chirrut, resting his palm on the top of Baze’s head.

“You know what I mean,” grumbled Baze, barely resisting the urge to smack his partner.

Neither of them moved for a long time, nor did they notice Jyn slipping away upstairs.

 

In hospital on Yavin 4, they sat on opposite sides of one bed, facing each other with legs hanging over the edge. Chirrut gripped Baze’s hand tightly, breathing smoothly and slowly.

“You got shot,” he said bluntly.

“It’s not that bad. That’s because some of us wear armor, unlike you old fool,” said Baze, unable to tear his gaze away from the blood trickling sluggishly from a particularly large shard of metal in Chirrut’s side.

“You wear enough for the both of us. Did you shield me with your own body?”

“No,” grunted Baze, gingerly helping a nurse unhook said armor. His weapons thumped threateningly.

“I thought so,” said Chirrut. “Thank you, [beloved].”

Baze gave up. “Why do you ask if you don’t believe me?”

“It amuses you,” Chirrut countered.

“No, I—” Baze was interrupted by Chirrut’s hand smacking into his face.

“Ah,” said Chirrut, smiling widely. His fingers slid over Baze’s skin familiarly, feeling out his expression.

“I have a feeling you did that on purpose too,” grumbled Baze, but he let Chirrut touch his face as always.

 “What the hell are you all doing? Hurry up before he bleeds out!” hissed a tan-skinned medic, startling them all. She stomped up and shouldered her way in front of Chirrut. “Stop fussing over his vision. He’s just blind, goddamnit.”

Chirrut laughed richly, even as more blood oozed out his side.

“I’m Tuluna,” the medic added, snapping on sterile gloves. “Okay, this is gonna hurt—”

Chirrut blanched but made no sound as she pulled the shrapnel from his body and immediately spread bacta over the ragged wound. Baze simply gripped his hand more tightly. Tuluna repeated this process several times, quickly patching up torn skin. She laid bacta strips across Chirriut’s forehead, on his temples, and down from the nape of his neck onto his spine, then reached for Baze. He flinched, but she simply glared at him until he relented. She carefully inspected Baze’s burns, already slick with bacta, and frowned, turning to rummage through her medication rack.

[You are scared of her?] commented Chirrut out the corner of his mouth.

[I don’t trust medical people,] replied Baze.

[I do.]

[You trust everybody,] said Baze without heat.

“You know, it’s rude to gossip in a different language in front of your very nice, very capable doctor,” said Tuluna briskly, dumping a few pills in a tiny cup.

Chirrut ducked his head and started laughing again. Baze stubbornly remained silent. Tuluna just rolled her eyes so hard he thought she’d burst a capillary.

“Guardians, huh?” she said casually, stripping off her gloves.

“Yes,” answered Baze, taking the pills at Chirrut’s pointed smirk.

“Look, I know it’s late and you’re tired, but just so you know, we have resources to help you work past your trauma when you need it.”

Chirrut turned his milky gaze on her, subdued in an instant. “We appreciate your offer, but Baze and I have trained in methods suited to us already. I would suggest, perhaps another Jedha native is in greater need.” His head followed the movement of the pilot across the room to the showers.

Tuluna caught on quickly. “Bodhi. He’s from Jedha, too?”

“He blames himself for the destruction of the city,” determined Chirrut. “The lightest shoulders often carry the greatest burdens.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” muttered Tuluna, but she frowned after Bodhi as well. She turned off the examination lamp and soon disappeared into her office, leaving the two men alone in the great, yawning cavity.

Baze slumped as the minutes passed, staring distantly through the wall ahead.

“Now is not the time for blame,” said Chirrut gently, pressing on his hand.

Baze took it. “I don’t blame him, not anymore.”

“Yes,” Chirrut nodded. “Nor should you blame yourself for harsh words soon regretted. You lash out when you’re in pain, much like Captain Andor over there.”

“What do I do?”

Chirrut tilted his head to one side. “Go to him. Offer what you can give.”

Not long after the showers shut off, Bodhi slipped silently back into the main room. His wet hair dripped onto his face and neck, giving him a bedraggled appearance to match the lost, empty look in his eyes. He stood by his bed for a long moment and stared at his sleeping teammates, his back to the two warriors observing him.

Baze called his name softly. The pilot jumped; apparently he hadn’t realized others were awake in the darkness. Baze beckoned him with one hand. Bodhi hesitated, then crept up in the dim light, head turning this way and that.

“Bodhi—” Baze faltered. Chirrut was the speaker; he always drew in people for their fortunes, pulled the truth from within them, _he_ knew the exact cryptic sayings that resonated long after his voice echoed away. “Bodhi, you know, Chirrut and I have been fighters a long time. There were—many—we couldn’t save. I, of all people, know that best.” Baze drew himself up. “Thank you. You saved both of us, just in time. I was more afraid for Chirrut than myself, but we got out because of you.”

“I was just doing what I could. It was my job, that was all,” whispered Bodhi.

“Galen Erso.” Chirrut understood. “He was almost like a father to you, wasn’t he?”

Bodhi searched the faces of the two men and looked over his shoulder at Jyn, who was sleeping with the kyber crystal in her fist. “Yes,” he gulped miserably.

“Who else did you lose?” asked Baze not unkindly.

“Mm-my mother. And my sister. But that was a long time ago.” Bodhi left out the unspoken question, looking from one warrior to the other. “A long time ago.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” said Baze slowly, the words unfamiliar on his tongue. “Chirrut and I lost the only home we ever had, but I think you lost more than that. You never got to feel home.”

“What Baze is trying to say,” cut in Chirrut, “is that he is a very grumpy old man, and he welcomes you as one of our own, for as long as you may wish it.”

“What?”

“You are a part of our family now, if you would like. You have done right by us, at the very least.”

“I… don’t know what to say.” Bodhi’s voice cracked like the earth before a heavy rain.

“Then say nothing at all,” Chirrut soothed. “It is your choice.”

“We all have burdens which are our own, but you will find others are not unwilling to help.” Baze held Bodhi’s gaze.

Across the room, the captain gasped into wakefulness with a pained groan and ended the moment, for now. Baze reached out and clasped Bodhi’s shoulder briefly before releasing him. Bodhi spared the older couple a last glance before hurrying off to Cassian Andor’s side.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” murmured Chirrut, laying down.

Baze went at the tug on his hand and shifted himself to his side, facing Chirrut. He traced the lines on his partner’s face, carved from time. Though originally Chirrut had done this to compensate for his sightless eyes, Baze took up the habit when he needed the physical reminder that happiness was at his fingertips. In the darkness, he searched out the new scabs and tender spots marring Chirrut’s skin, which he used to keep well smoothed with a jade roller each night.

“How do you stand it?” he whispered tightly.

“Oh, Baze.” Chirrut’s stoic front cracked, letting his grief shine through. “There is little else I can do.”

They were quiet for some time. As the others fell asleep, the night air pressed in close the way it does when no one else is stirring except for spirits of the unconscious.

“You saved me,” whispered Chirrut.

“No. The Force saved us both.”

[Come here,] said Chirrut. Baze complied easily, leaning over and pressing their dry lips together very gently. “You can do better than that,” Chirrut murmured when he pulled back.

This time, Baze’s arm went around Chirrut and held him close. Chirrut’s hands wound themselves into the long strands at Baze’s neck, and they kissed deeply for a moment. Then, they slowly parted and fell asleep, wrapped up in each other and breathing the same air.

 

Baze woke just before Chirrut did, as always. The shock of the unfamiliar surroundings sent a quick pang through his heart, and he remembered. The dawn was still rising, but quiet movements brought Baze’s attention to Jyn slipping out of bed. She darted into Tuluna’s office briefly, where her higher tones mixed with Tuluna’s lower voice. Beside him, Chirrut blinked, already alert. Jyn reappeared and departed quickly. Tuluna came back out, rubbing her tired eyes.

“Ah,” she murmured, coming over to the two men. “You’re awake.”

She examined them quickly and quietly so as not to wake the younger two. The many white bandages disfiguring Chirrut’s golden skin peeled away, leaving behind smooth and pink skin. Baze received another round of pills, and then Tuluna reapplied bacta over his blaster burns, not quite healed on his left side. She handed them fresh clothes and officially released them from medical with strict orders to return later for a follow-up.

“Come, let us walk,” said Chirrut, dressing efficiently. He felt around for his staff, catching it expertly when Baze tossed it at him.

“Ah ah.” Tuluna stopped Baze from strapping on his armor and weapons again. “There’s no use scowling about it, I can’t let you put weight on your shoulder yet, and you won’t need it here anyway.”

Baze glared at her, but she just put her hands on her hips and stared him down. Baze suddenly found he didn’t care to argue and meekly followed Chirrut out. Half the base still slumbered on, so they came across few during their stroll, and none bothered to disturb the two. Towards the centre of the base, Chirrut perked up his ears. Soon after, Baze caught raised voices coming from a closed room ahead.

The door hissed open after they passed it. Jyn stormed out, kyber crystal swinging wildly around her neck, and came up short before the two warriors in her path. “Good morning,” she sighed.

“Good morning,” Chirrut returned. “Up so early to do a favour for a friend?”

“Days are short, might as well make the most of them.” She paused, and her lip curled in amusement. “And here I thought eavesdropping was bad.”

“It is,” Chirrut agreed solemnly.

Her smile flourished, then broke. Her hand went to the crystal, tightening around it reflexively. “I just don’t know what to do,” Jyn whispered, tears rising in her eyes.

“None of us do,” Baze confessed. Chirrut’s silence spoke for himself.

“I’m so—so torn. I’ve been alone for a long time, and there are advantages to being on a team. I’d forgotten. But. I’m not ready to stop so suddenly. I-I had plans, I had goals, before I got taken by the Rebellion. They weren’t much and I don’t regret any of this, but I owe commitments to people around the galaxy, people too small for the Rebellion to care about. It betrayed me once,” and here she released the crystal. “I just don’t know who to trust.”

“Start with what you do know. Who do you trust?” Baze guided them all out of the corridor into a smaller nook. Chirrut went patiently, both hands gripping his staff.

“Myself. You and Chirrut. Cassian. Bodhi.” She wet her lips. “Mon Mothma, I suppose.”

Baze nodded. “She has a good heart. She can help you for the right reasons.”

“The right reasons,” Jyn snorted bitterly. “I don’t think I even know what those are anymore.”

“You will find out in time,” said Chirrut at last. “Do what you intended to do, before you came upon us. I can offer no better guide than the one already in your heart. Talk to the little people, find out what they know.”

“But what can I _do_ for them? I’ve got no money, no resources of my own. I don’t want to get trapped in prison again, have all my time cut short. I wanted to make a difference!”

“You have,” said Baze simply.

“The Death Star plans. Yes. But that’s won’t stop the Empire.”

“What did you learn, Jyn? What did you learn for the first time, on that mission?”

Jyn looked taken aback. “I—Hope? Friendship, maybe.”

“Hope,” Baze agreed. “And friendship. I don’t believe in much, Chirrut will tell you, but we believed in you. Cassian believed in you. Maybe, you can pass it on to others.”

“You want a reason to help. You’ve always been searching for it,” added Chirrut. “You wore it around your neck for years.”

Jyn stared at him. “You know, for a blind man, you see a lot.”

Chirrut chuckled. “I don’t. I just listen carefully.” He touched the kyber crystal on her sternum with the tip of his staff, the tiny ping amplified slightly by the metal ensnaring his own crystal.

Jyn looked down at it, smiling sadly. She tucked it away and stood. Impulsively, she hugged both men, and left.

“What will she choose?” Baze turned to his partner. “She might never come back.”

Chirrut stared straight ahead. “A body may orbit the galaxy until coming to rest around a sun. She will return, in time. Her will—it must be given freely, or she will always want to run.”

“Sometimes, I don’t understand you,” said Baze, shaking his shaggy head.

“Yes,” Chirrut conceded with a smile, “but now is not one of those times.”

He kept smiling until Baze asked, [What?] a bit defensively.

[Oh, nothing, it’s just the old Baze would never have bothered offering wisdom to anyone before. I’m glad you’re learning, though.]

“Shut up,” Baze muttered. “I barely told her anything.”

“Still, though,” Chirrut considered, “you tried.”

He pushed himself up and held out a hand, drawing Baze back to their main path to the outside. They walked for a long time. Chirrut traced the outside of the temple with his hand and felt out the unbroken path ahead with his staff. They both breathed evenly and deeply, trying to get the ashes of Jedha out of their lungs.

“Describe it to me,” he asked.

Baze could never say no and launched into description of the base as a whole, eventually getting to the part where they treaded now.

“…it’s unbelievably green in the rocks. There is so much moisture, everything lives. The clouds hang here always, and they are so close above. The tops of the trees disappear into it, and it’s green up there too, like—like—”

“Like we’ve never seen before,” Chirrut filled in.

Baze stopped and Chirrut sensed it, stopping along with him. “Chirrut, if I could give you my eyes…”

“But you already have,” murmured Chirrut. He touched the back of his hand to Baze’s face for a moment. He then began to walk again, his stick swinging above the grass, unneeded for the moment. He murmured as he went, “I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.”

“The Force is with me, and I am one with the Force,” returned Baze softly.

 Chirrut drew him in with an arm around his waist.


	4. One More Time For Good Measure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team comes to the defence in more than one way following several debriefs and two attacks. The Death Star approaches, and it's time to see if the plans work.

Cassian always hated debriefs, even if the mission had gone well. This one, he just wanted over as quickly as possible. It started out like he expected.

“So. You appropriated a stolen Imperial cargo ship, and flew it, unauthorized, to attack an Imperial base.”

A beat. “Yes, sir,” said Cassian, knuckling the cold metal under his wrist.

“You joined ranks with a former criminal, an Imperial defector, two warrior monks, and convinced ten other soldiers to follow you with a plan you cooked up on the go,” read out Draven.

“I like to think of it as the best plan we had but yes, sir.”

“Mm. You successfully stole the Death Star plans and transmitted them to the _Profundity,_ nearly getting destroyed along with Scarif in the process.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good work. How’s your team doing?”

“How’s my—” Cassian floundered for a moment. “Ah, we are all recovering, I think, though I haven’t seen Jyn around. Sir, if I may ask, the plans?”

“Ah, yes. The plans should be on their way to Alderaan by now. Imperial troops took over the flagship, but last we heard the princess had safely received them. Furthermore, Jyn Erso came in here early this morning, and she and Senator Mothma have been in conversation ever since.”

Cassian nodded and waited.

“Captain—Cassian,” the general amended, “I believe I owe you an apology.”

“Sir?”

General Draven paused, choosing his words carefully. A rueful smile softened the harsh lines of his face leading up to cold blue eyes. “When I say Jyn came in here—I entered my office earlier, and she was already waiting to see me. She gave me a proper earful about what I’d done to you, and at first I was angry and didn’t want to listen. The more I thought about it… The Rebellion likes to think we’re more humanitarian than the Empire and I hope we are, but what good does that do if we don’t listen to the word of a simple soldier?”

Cassian shifted a bit on his feet but otherwise remained silent.

“I know you’ve never complained about your orders, and you’ve been an exceptional officer, Cassian. But. In the future, if you feel a mission is morally wrong— talk to us. We can find a way to do what’s right.”

Cassian blinked. “You’re asking me to question your orders if I don’t agree with them.”

“Respectfully, but essentially yes,” said Draven. For the first time in all the years Cassian had known him, he looked like just another man, fighting in the shadow of the Empire and holding tight to anything dear.

“I also understand you lost K-2SO. I offer my sincere condolences.”

Cassian swallowed convulsively around the lump in his throat and straightened. “Thank you, sir.”

“Right.” The general cleared his throat, nudging his datapad on his desk aimlessly. “You and the other, er, Rogue One leaders will receive special commendations for your work on Scarif. I also intend to promote Jyn Erso to the level of sergeant, though I wanted your opinion on that before I do so.”

“My opinion, sir.”

“How would she take it? Would she accept?”

Cassian remembered her impassioned speech in the cargo hold of the plane, addressed to his disillusioned troops. He then recalled her uncertainty in the hospital wing later, and he wondered again where she’d gone.

“I think it will be her decision in the end,” he settled on.

“Of course, of course. You know, sometimes we forget how young you all are…” The general gave a minute jerk of his head. “Send in your pilot next, will you?”

“I’ll get Bodhi right away,” affirmed Cassian.

“All right, dismissed.”

Cassian spun on his heel and made his way blindly out the door, back to his room. “Draven wants to see you,” he announced.

“How’d it go?” asked Bodhi, jumping up a bit guiltily from Cassian’s little-used bed, the only available seating other than the floor.

Cassian shrugged mechanically and gave him directions to Draven’s office. Bodhi brushed past him with a brief look of concern, but Cassian looked away. The door slid closed and he headed to the computer console, fumbling through a stack of datachips beside it. He found the one he was looking for and breathed out a wet sob, sinking to his knees.

For 12 years, every single time they were on base or close to a reliable Rebellion computer, K-2SO was programmed to download all of his files. Initially, it was to reassure Cassian’s commanders that all traces of the Empire had been wiped and that K-2 wasn’t going to attack them all, but later it was just in case Cassian screwed up the reprogramming and needed to go back. He wasn’t the best engineer, after all, and indeed a good portion of the chips at the bottom of the stack held poorly written codes by a 14-year old boy. Eventually, K-2SO became so reliable even Draven borrowed him on occasion, though Cassian’s droid always remained fiercely loyal to him, almost possessive at times.

During their brief interlude between Eadu and Scarif, Jyn and Bodhi had disappeared into the council meeting while Cassian ordered K-2 to make one record and went to go round up some crew. For once, they’d done the right thing, but Cassian still wished it hurt less.

Bodhi came back to find him curled up on the floor, rocking backwards and forwards with the weight of his sobs. Cassian tried to apologise, make some excuse, but his throat choked up harder than all the times K-2 had tried to strangle him in the early days combined. He let Bodhi ease the datachip from his fists and read the label, trusting him to understand. A second later, Bodhi wrapped his arms around Cassian, giving him all the time he needed.

Cassian cried for longer than he’d have liked to admit, not having cried since he was six years old and alone for the first time. The storm of catharsis slowly passed, leaving him clinging tiredly to Bodhi’s thin shirt. Only then did he realize Bodhi’s quiet chant rumbling under his ear was really him apologizing over and over.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wish I could’ve saved them, for you, for us all. I’m sorry.”

“What are you talking about?” sniffled Cassian, pulling back suddenly. He’d almost be angry, except his head hurt from crying and Bodhi still looked afraid and guilty for the smallest things, all the time.

Bodhi shut his eyes. “I was too slow. I should’ve done more.”

Cassian grabbed his face with both hands. “Bodhi, Bodhi, you _ridiculous_ man. You have done _more_ than enough,” he enunciated every word through his stuffed sinuses. “Without you, the Alliance would never have known there was a weakness in the Death Star. We wouldn’t have gotten the plans at all.”

“Oh,” said Bodhi from between Cassian’s hands.

“Not only that, you were suffering from unspeakable horrors when I found you, but you stole us a plane and flew us back to war, which is more than any of us could’ve asked of you. You made the choice, Bodhi,” said Cassian, giving him a little shake. “You are a hero.”

“Oh,” said Bodhi again, gulping.

“That’s right, and you better remember it,” Cassian punctuated with a final poke to Bodhi’s chest and sighed, leaning tiredly into his arms.

They stayed there for a while. Bodhi had a hand stuck loosely through Cassian’s hair, and Cassian was content to stay on Bodhi’s chest forever.

“So, what did Draven want?”

“Oh, he said I, um, I get to fly for the Rebellion now.”

“You’re staying on?” said Cassian, perking up.

“First Officer Rook, at your service.” He lifted his left arm, and Cassian finally noticed the new uniform. The fabric was stiff and pristine so far, but it looked _right_ on Bodhi. The only reminder of his previous life was edge of those white goggles poking out of a front pocket.

“Hey, that’s great! We’ll get to fly together,” cried Cassian.

A sudden pounding of feet outside the door brought them reluctantly apart. Cassian hadn’t realized how close he’d been to Bodhi’s face, and he scrubbed his tearstains away in an attempt to hide his burning cheeks.

“What’s going on?” wondered Bodhi, frowning as more feet rushed past and voices shouted faintly.

“I don’t know. Let’s go find out.”

They joined the flow of people rushing through the corridors, Cassian’s limp slowing them down, until they were expelled onto the tarmac. A collective gasp went up as a U-Wing soared out of the mist and touched down lightly ahead.

“They’re from Scarif!” a voice shouted ahead.

A cheer went up as several Rebel troopers scrambled out, tired and injured but smiling broadly. A few Cassian didn’t know, but he recognized Sefla, Tonc, Pao, and Melshi, all volunteers for the initial Rogue One squadron.

The U-Wing’s pilot descended, taking off her helmet and shaking out sweaty hair. She made her way up to Mon Mothma at the front of the crowd and dipped her head respectfully. “Ma’am. I’m sorry we couldn’t send word earlier, but we were caught under fire in Imperial space, on top of which our hyperdrive skipped out a few times on the way home.”

“That’s quite all right, Captain Meive,” said Mothma wryly. “Welcome back.”

The crowd parted to let the medical teams and weary crew pass through. Unbidden, tears welled up in Cassian’s eyes again. At least, they hadn’t lost everyone. As the crowd dispersed slowly, chattering and laughing with raised spirits, he searched the faces passing by. Finally, he pushed his way up to the front.

“Where’s Jyn?” he demanded of Senator Mothma.

 

A little distance away, two aged men bowed suddenly as if burdened by an immense weight. Chirrut’s staff banged down as he leant on it heavily. Two tears slid slowly from his clouded eyes. He lifted his head and wordlessly sought out his partner’s pained expression with trembling fingers, confirming they’d both felt the tremendous quake in the Force.

“A million soundless voices, all gone,” whispered Chirrut in despair.

 

“Where are you going?” Cassian followed Jyn back and forth across the hangar as she stuffed the odd necessity into her new pack.

“Mothma’s leaving briefly to meet the Senate. She agreed to drop me off at an inhabited planet along the way.”

“Why not stay?” Bodhi implored.

“I have to go,” she said in lieu of answering. “Alderaan’s destruction has just pushed the ticket further, and it’s time.”

“But _why_? Didn’t Mothma, or—or Draven tell you they wanted you with us?”

“I don’t do titles,” she insisted, shoving something small into Cassian’s hand. It was her unsewn sergeant’s patch. “I might join you from time to time, but I still pick my missions. I’ve spent years hating the chain of command, and that’s one part of me that’ll never change. I’m sorry.”

“So you’re leaving.” _For good_ , hung in the air.

“I’ll be around,” she promised, finally stopping in front of the two men. “Somewhere. Sometime.”

“You don’t have to do this,” urged Cassian. “You don’t have to fight every battle. The Alliance has hundreds of people on our side, and not all of them are killers. This isn’t what I meant by find something worth fighting for,” he said more quietly. Jyn’s eyes tightened in the corners and he paused. “Have you found it?”

“I have not. Not yet, at least.” She met his gaze, proud and defiant as always.

“Ah. Well, then.” Cassian deflated and opened his arms, dropping his cane onto the ferrocrete. She stepped in, and he pressed his chin into her shoulder.

“Don’t,” he whispered in her ear, “don’t become like Saw Gerrera.” Weakened, broken, and alone.

“I won’t,” she promised, pulling back so he could see her face. “I’m not that kind of rogue anymore.”

Cassian laughed softly and stepped back, tears blurring his vision. “Here,” he remembered. Jyn took the blaster and caressed the handle gently, a small smile curving her lips. “Just in case someone starts shooting at you.”

She holstered it, then hugged Bodhi briefly before heading out onto the tarmac. Cassian watched her go, a moving shadow soon blurring into nothing but mist. He sighed, listing to one side, and sensed Bodhi stepping closer. “I wish,” he whispered, “she would stay a little longer…”

“Some people just leave us,” murmured Bodhi, pressing the cane into Cassian’s hand.

“You’re not,” stated Cassian.

Bodhi scoffed, barely more than a breath. “Where would I go?”

Cassian clapped Bodhi’s shoulder. “I, for one, am glad.” His hand stayed there, a suggestion. Bodhi’s eyes were warm and unflinching.

For a while, they both stood out in the opening, breathing in the rich, green air. Then, they turned and headed back into the base, Cassian leaning more on Bodhi than the cane at his side.

 

The princess arrived later that evening. The surprise survival of the last of Alderaan’s royalty revived hope around the base, but it was quickly curbed by news that the Empire had tracked them there. No one slept that night; tactical leaders pored over the schematics recovered by the princess and her adopted friends, technicians rushed to prepare the ships, and medical crew anticipated to receive the injured.

 

Early on, an older major called on the original leaders of the Rogue squad into General Dodonna’s office for a brief meeting. Like a good soldier, Cassian followed orders and collected Baze and Chirrut (Bodhi was already with him), but he stayed on his guard. A part of him was still angry at Jyn for leaving. After all he’d done for her, _alongside_ her, he’d thought they’d make a great team, but she still left. He wondered if she had even planned on saying goodbye. Without her, the heavy questioning fell upon the four, especially Bodhi. He had carried Galen’s original message, but apparently just hearing it from Jyn with the rest of them wasn’t good enough.

“Are you sure you never heard any part of Galen Erso’s message?” asked the major conducting the inquiry.

“Yes! I—Yes, sir. I was merely the messenger, I was sent to Jedha with the tape but I never—“

“We all know it,” inserted Cassian. “Jyn Erso relayed the message to us after she’d seen it.”

The major ignored him. “Why did you take the message to Saw Gerrera? What happened after you delivered it?” He continued, but Cassian wasn’t listening anymore.

At the mention of Saw’s name, Bodhi went rigid. His chair had no armrests, so his hands were clenched on the sides of the seat until the wood bit into his skin. Cassian recognized the way his gaze unfixed and hastened to his side. He crouched low in front of Bodhi’s knees, careful not to touch his friend or block him in with his body.

 “Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re safe, don’t worry, you’re safe. Breathe with me, hm? Focus on my voice, come back with each breath…”

Cassian kept up a calm, steady murmur of reassurances, watching as Bodhi slowly closed his eyes, then screwed them up tight. Cassian ignored the wide-mouthed major, who continued with his questions now addressed to the whole.

 “Why not bring the stolen plans directly to the base? Why transmit them, and create a delay? I can only surmise that the message was part of a trap to lure Rebel troops into battle and lead the Empire to our base. So far, no weakness has been found.”

“Have you looked again?” fired Baze.

“He nearly died!” Chirrut slammed his staff into the floor. “We all would’ve died if it weren’t for him.”

 “Are you loyal to the Empire?”

Bodhi tipped forwards, burying his face in his hands. His head missed Cassian’s by inches.

“That’s enough.” General Dodonna finally arrived, surveying the scene with an unreadable expression. “If you want an answer to that, you’d have to ask me, too.”

The major straightened. “Sir, with all due respect, we never received a clear report of the events leading up to Scarif. How do we know they’re on our side?”

“We know because they damn well risked their lives so we could have a chance at destroying that bloody Death Star. The rest is classified for now. Dismissed, Major. Dismissed,” he repeated more softly. After the door slid closed, Dodonna explained, “He lost many friends on Scarif. His behavior is inexcusable, but for now, please accept my apologies on his behalf.”

Dodonna’s bright, intelligent eyes peered out of his greying face as he examined them all honestly. “I, too, once served for the Empire, but I escaped to serve the Rebellion. There is no need for further shame in your beginnings, Officer Rook. The rest depends on how you fare from now on, but I have a feeling you will not disappoint.”

“Thank you, sir,” mumbled Bodhi, lifting his head from between his crumpled shoulders. Cassian shifted back on his heels, but he stayed close by, just in case.

“Now,” said Dodonna, “the actual reason I brought you all here is so I could easily let you know: we’ve found the weakness. Draven is amassing the pilots, but first I would like to introduce you to her Royal Highness, Princess Leia Organa, at her request.”

Bodhi swallowed audibly and stood up at the same time Cassian did. The awkward band of rebels glanced at each other sideways in alarm in the second before the white-robed diplomat swept into the meeting room on cue.

“For heaven’s sake, Leia will do fine,” she said, giving the general a pointed look. “There’s no need to stand on ceremony. From what I understand, it’s my turn to thank you all. You risked your lives to get us those plans, and I don’t know what we would’ve done without them.”

For the life of him, Cassian could not think of a single thing to say. _She’s shorter than I expected,_ he thought, and realised how much younger she was than even Jyn.

“Bodhi Rook. Cassian Andor. Baze Malbus. Chirrut Imwe. Thank you so much for all you have done, and may the Force be with us.”

Across the room, Chirrut smiled suddenly, his hands gripping his staff loosely. A sandy-haired youth poked his head inside the room and saved them all from replying.

He looked around until he spotted the princess and said, “Leia. We’re ready.”

 

Cassian listened to the plan outlined to destroy the Death Star and shook his head. It was perhaps lucky Jyn had left, for he would have turned to her and asked her what the hell her father was thinking. A target that small? That risky? He looked around the room, at the eager young pilots fresh out of the academy, with spots still marring their round cheeks. None of them looked much older than the princess herself, including her friend, who turned out to be Luke Skywalker. Cassian felt like he was burning up inside with frustration. Even if he had been trained as a fighter pilot, which he hadn’t, he would never be cleared for battle with his limp still prevalent.

Tuluna hunted him down later for his bacta reapplication. She did it herself this time, silent and grim-faced as the younger medics bustled around importantly and restocked their kits. She knew as well as Cassian did that few pilots ever received injuries minor enough to require medical attention.

When the Death Star exited hyperspace at dawn on the other side of Yavin, he headed for the control room to keep up with the nerve-wracking action, but it only made him feel worse. As they listened in horror as all of Gold Squadron got picked off like rats in a nest, sick despair pooled in his stomach. It seemed anger constantly simmered just under his skin no matter how he tried to control it, so Cassian went outside since it was useless to remain helpless inside.

However, all the fight escaped him like a puff of smoke when he caught sight of Bodhi, Baze, and Chirrut together on the grass, looking out. Chirrut sat cross-legged in his usual meditative pose, except his head rested on the shoulder of Baze kneeling beside him. Bodhi sat with his arms wrapped around his knees, Baze’s free hand grounding him by the shoulder. Cassian sagged midway between the base and their little gathering, as if trapped between two repelling magnets. As he watched, Bodhi’s outside arm slipped down beside him, his hand resting loosely in the grass. Cassian took that for the invitation it was meant to be and gave in, pulled irresistibly forward to watch his fate. Bodhi curled his hand around Cassian’s, another knot in a thread of understanding.

Cassian sank down to watch the massive face creeping around Yavin’s bloody sphere. How many more times they would be caught under the Death Star’s crushing glare? Would it be quick and thorough, like Alderaan? Or would it be slow and aching, like Jedha, like Scarif? If the Rebel fleet failed, that question would soon be answered.

He thought of Jyn and prayed she was so very far away by now. He closed his eyes, and almost imagined he could hear a faint, crystalline humming…

When the Death Star exploded in a shower of sparks, none of them moved for quite some time.

                           

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what this chapter was honestly, but so far you all seem to like what I do so I hope this didn't disappoint. The last chapter comes up next week, and then I have a few other ideas that depend on what people might like to see. Thanks again to everyone's kind support so far! It means so much to me xx


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team gets wrapped up with a nice little bow.

After a brief awards ceremony conducted by Princess Leia for Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, and Chewbacca, General Dodonna took to the stage and announced the headquarters must be moved now their location was compromised. The next several days were a flurry of activity as the base packed up in fear of an Imperial invasion.

A week later, when Cassian could walk freely and took to literally running around the base with Bodhi in tow, an Imperial security droid was delivered to the base, only _slightly_ damaged. The racket drew Cassian to the front entrance. He waded quickly through the gathering crowd and caught sight of it lying on the ground, a neat blaster hole where the motivational circuits usually were. His laughter rang high above all the other voices like a choir of bells.

 

The mornings were spent helping with the moving effort, but a few, precious hours in the afternoons were theirs until Bodhi’s therapy appointments. Cassian worked for several days on wiping the memory systems and repairing the physical damage to the droid, which he had brought to their shared room. In the meantime, he chatted idly with Bodhi, who read from endless datapads and often exploded in a flurry of excitement whenever he reached the end of a particularly thrilling novel. Cassian sat on the floor between the beds, surrounded by machine parts and tools, and often glanced up to watch his friend become entranced in the section he was in. Sometimes, when he turned to speak, Cassian was already staring, which made Bodhi pause and smile before continuing.

Bodhi sometimes helped with the droid when asked, but he seemed to understand it was something for Cassian alone. The day the body was finished, he looked up to find Cassian sitting absolutely still on the floor, staring into its darkened face. Bodhi silently put down his pad, retrieved the datachip from the desk, and pressed it into Cassian’s hand. “I’ll be with Baze and Chirrut,” he murmured.

Cassian nodded, glancing up at the brief press to his shoulder. Once he was alone, he turned the chip over and over in his hands. He wanted his friend back, he did, but part of him hesitated. In all those years, K-2SO had never been irreparably damaged, thus Cassian never had cause to use one of the backups. There was no telling if it would even work in the new body, or if _he_ would be… different.

And then there was Bodhi. Friends were difficult to make, and even more difficult to keep in the field. Cassian would sooner die than make Bodhi feel like he’d only been a temporary substitute for K-2. In their short time together, Cassian had trusted Bodhi with his life without hesitation, and now he couldn’t imagine himself without Bodhi by his side, offering encouragements through Tuluna’s brutal physical therapy regime, sitting in the other cockpit seat as Cassian taught him how to fly Rebel ships, whispering goodnight because they became roommates after Bodhi’s first night alone, during which Cassian’s sleep was plagued by nightmares and white plastic goggles. In the morning he’d found Bodhi sitting half-catatonic, his eyes blood-rimmed, and offered him a permanent place to stay, effective immediately.

 After what many were beginning to call the Battle of Yavin, soldiers and fellow pilots began nodding at them in the halls; some even brought them back fragments of the exploded Death Star as a memento for the base. Rapidly, they warmed up to the former Imperial pilot, inviting him to their holovid nights and including him in hangar talk. It warmed Cassian’s heart that Bodhi had a solid spot in the Rebellion now. Sometimes a wistful part inside wondered how much longer Bodhi would stick with him, but then Cassian remembered the times Bodhi turned down calls to join other groups of pilots in favour of studying in their shared room. He thought of how he was the only one let in when Bodhi was feeling tired or not up to socializing that day and Bodhi’s unruffled, quiet support during Cassian’s harder days in return. Maybe it was time to learn how to have two friends.

Steeling himself, he shoved the chip into place. The lights in the droid’s head slowly flickered on, then stabilized and oscillated rapidly. “Cassian?” K-2SO sat up, turning his head around to take in the tools and parts scattered around him. “How did I get here?”

“Oh, K-2,” sniffled Cassian, covering his face with one hand. “Welcome back.”

“Welcome back?” cried his droid indignantly. “Why are you dressed differently? Did you deactivate me and leave me here while you went to Scarif?”

“It’s a long story…” Cassian recounted everything that had happened after he’d sent off K-2. He told him of the men who followed him to their deaths, how the Rebellion came through in the end, how frenetic and precarious a journey the plans took back to base in order to ultimately, destroy the Death Star once and for all. He recounted Jyn’s leaving, and Bodhi, Baze, and Chirrut’s family bonding. Cassian cried as he told K-2 how his droid died a hero, sacrificing himself so they all might have a chance.

K-2SO was unusually silent all the while. Cassin was beginning to worry that the backup was faulty when he finally tilted his mechanical head and said, “But I’m here, Cassian.”

Cassian threw himself forward, hugging his droid. “Never leave again, okay? Because I don’t think I could bear it anymore.” He could hear the little whirs and clicks as K-2 turned his head in confusion and moved his arms around aimlessly, unsure how to react.

“Stop being such a hero, then, and having people sacrifice themselves for you,” said K-2SO, entirely nonplussed.

Cassian drew back. “I never wanted that,” he said, a little sadly.

K-2SO considered that for a moment. “Well, at least it’s better than killing them outright.”

Cassian choked on a laugh and wiped his eyes. There was a sudden hiss, and Bodhi skidded to a halt just inside the open doorway, looking around bewilderedly for a moment before lowering his gaze to the two on the floor.

“K-2, good to see you back. Right, um, you both might want to come quickly, though. Something’s happening outside.”

Cassian scrambled up off the floor, K-2 helpfully lifting him up by the scruff of his shirt. They jogged back to the lower level, then stopped and stared in surprise.

“It’s a party!” Cassian laughed out loud.

The base’s many technicians, crew, and officers had a few nights to themselves before a new location could be finalized, and naturally, turned it into a giant function. It started in the former hangar and spilled out into the night air, lit only by the stars and minimal lamps inside. The crew had piled up the base’s leftover junk and miscellaneous scraps into a makeshift stage and already, a few of the mechanics were bringing out their various musical instruments and cobbling together enough sound to keep spirits flowing.

“What is it _for?_ ” Bodhi gaped at the rambunctious crowd.

“It’s a celebration,” said Cassian, walking backwards and pulling him in with both hands, “of being alive. Come on!”

He led Bodhi through the specifics of a party and introduced him to the food table set up near the back. Bodhi’s eyes bugged out at the new treats and he loaded up several plates’ worth of food, much to Cassian’s delight as he recalled their first meal together. They climbed high on top of a U-wing, sitting with their picnic and watching the crowd jam together, while K-2 played around below with the insides of the ship.

“How was therapy?” Cassian asked like he did every day.

“It was okay today,” said Bodhi, munching through a chocolate-filled pastry. “We talked about guilt some more, and I told Emra I had another nightmare last night. He suggested I keep a journal, so I can write about, you know,” he swallowed hard, “Jedha. And other things.”

“Hey,” said Cassian softly. “That’s great. It’s a good idea; mine helped me a lot when I first started using it.”

“What? You mean, you kept a journal too?”

“I did for a while.” Cassian lifted one shoulder. “After that, I had K-2 and didn’t need it as much.”

“Huh,” said Bodhi, looking down at his hands.

“It will be all right,” said Cassian in lieu of what he wanted to say. “We’ll be all right.”

They were silent for a while until Bodhi began asking about interesting-looking people in the crowd, and Cassian summoned up any anecdotes or secondhand impressions he could fir each person.

“See the guy on the bass harp? He runs the environmental controls on whatever planet we’re on so always be nice to him, or you might wake up in a sauna sometime,” Cassian shouted over the noise, pointing at the stage.

“What’s a sauna?”

“Oh, man. Lemme tell you about the time…”

They swapped stories as dusk deepened until their food ran out. Cassian waved his hands around vaguely as he talked, sometimes shaping them for demonstrations complete with sound effects. Even at rest, Bodhi fairly crackled with energy and would often surge up from a reclining position at interesting points, then flop back in moments of awe. They took to ranking the accompaniment as the band got the hang of arranging pieces on the fly. Bodhi had rarely heard music before, so Cassian had great fun watching his reactions to the strange, sometimes alien styles. He gradually eased back and only spoke to provoke further outpouring of passion from his companion. Bodhi responded so acutely to every new detail, it turned the cobbled-together do into an extraordinary adventure in Cassian’s eyes.

“Let’s dance,” he decided in a break before the next song.

“To what?” Bodhi hopped up readily, reaching out for Cassian’s hand to steady himself.

Cassian shrugged and swung himself off the side of the plane. “Anything!” he called back up.

Bodhi’s head and shoulders appeared over the edge, his face breaking out into a smile. Cassian helped him down, narrowly avoiding a boot to the face, and they made their way into the greater mass of the party. The music was all wrong, too perky and fast, but it sent a frisson of excitement through the crowd so Cassian shrugged. He led the way, arms waving in the air, and dodged more than a few suspiciously moving couples.

“This is crazy,” Bodhi shouted. He vainly tried to copy Cassian’s arm movements but merely looked like he was being held under arrest, much to K-2’s amusement.

Cassian stopped where the population per inch lessened and spun around, facing Bodhi properly again. “This is the best!”

Bodhi nodded and laughed, the first Cassian had heard from him. Cassian’s face split of its own accord until he thought his cheeks would hurt from smiling. “Yeah?” he asked, dropping his hands and moving in closer.

Bodhi smiled up at him. “Yeah. Yeah…” and then he surprised him again by lowering his hands to Cassian’s shoulders and kissing him.

“I—Wow.” Cassian blinked up at him when he was released.

“Is this okay?” Bodhi asked, his breath brushing Cassian’s nose.

“It’s okay. This is nice. Very, very nice,” said Cassian, leaning in slowly.

Bodhi met him again unhesitantly, his hands sliding to waist-height as Cassian cupped his face gently. Cassian’s heart pounded wildly in his ears, or maybe it was the music; he didn’t particularly care either way. He could taste green punch on Bodhi’s lips, and short hairs dug into his chin delightfully as they moved their mouths. Cassian kept it decent since they were in public, but he couldn’t resist a quick swipe of his tongue across Bodhi’s lower lip to hear his gasp.

The upbeat, intelligible tune shifted as they parted, and out of the corner of his eye Cassian spied the lead signal the band to start a silky, smouldering tune. The man’s broad, sonorous bass rang from the gut, his white teeth flashing out from between brown lips. Even without any amplification, Cassian felt the rumbling timbre of his voice through his body all the way to where it was rooted in the earth. He grinned at Bodhi and swayed lightly, their hands still wrapped around each other. They just began swaying towards each other again when—

“Everybody, rock (Rook) your Bodhi,” the singer bellowed as the musicians threw themselves into rhythm.

Everyone froze for a half-beat before the crowd erupted with raucous laughter and piercing whistles. Bodhi gaped at the stage as Cassian threw back his head and howled with mirth. The lead singer spotted them and tipped a wink in their direction, spurring another wave of cheers and hoots from the crowd.

Bodhi turned on Cassian. “Did you do this?” he demanded.  

“No,” Cassian wheezed out. “If I had, I’d owe myself 50 credits because boy, was that amazing.”

Bodhi groaned and buried his head in his hands as the chorus continued with variations on a theme. Cassian could barely stand up straight or see through his tears, but he latched onto Bodhi for support and dragged him over to where a tray perched precariously off a nearby X-wing.

“I can’t… I can’t believe,” Bodhi was muttering into his sleeves.

“Here, you look like a man who needs a drink,” chortled Cassian, leaning against the plane.

“What is it?” Bodhi glared balefully first at the tray, then Cassian, and back again.

“The question, my friend, is not what it _is_ but what it will _do,_ ” said Cassian, passing him a little cup of foul-smelling liquid, “and that, my dear Bodhi, must simply be experienced.”

“ _What_ is this??” Bodhi bleated again.

“It’s a shot,” explained Cassian. “It’s alcohol. It makes you a bit warm and fuzzy inside, and people get drunk off it, though that won’t happen here so don’t worry about that.”

“Why not?”

“Because thankfully, there isn’t enough alcohol to go around with so many pilots, and in any case, Mon Mothma would flay you all alive if she caught you drinking,” interjected K-2SO, coming up behind them from wherever he’d disappeared off to earlier.

“Eh, Senator Mothma needs to loosen up once in a while, along with this old bucket,” said Cassian, giving K-2’s metal body a thunk. He quieted, expression sobering for a moment, then saluted them with his glass. “To those we lost.”

Bodhi mimicked his toast while K-2 just pointed over Cassian’s shoulder. Cassian turned just as he was throwing back his shot and immediately choked at the sight of Mothma at his shoulder. Before he could say anything in his defense, she selected a small cup and sipped neatly from the edge with nary a grimace. While Cassian’s brain was rebooting, she simply replaced the glass upside-down on the tray, smiled at them, and swept back through the crowd. Now it was Bodhi’s turn to laugh and he did, linking their arms and leading the trio away from the X-wing. As people jostled into them again, Bodhi boldly slid his hand down to interlock his fingers with Cassian’s.

They weaved towards the edges of the crowd until they came upon a pair sitting on a few crates just outside the hangar entrance. Bodhi and Cassian took a seat silently beside Baze and Chirrut, neither couple bothering to separate their hands.

Chirrut turned his head slightly in their direction before facing forwards again. “I’m glad you two didn’t take as long as we did to figure things out.”

“Are you sure you’re actually blind?” Cassian blurted. “Because I think, maybe you’re just pretending.”

Baze began snorting uncontrollably, shoulders shaking his willow-leaf hair, and Bodhi just sighed. Chirrut’s mouth opened on a silent laugh. He tilted his face up to the air, teeth gleaming in the darkness. Around them, the trees surrounding the temple whispered behind their branches. They pointed at the old and young couples and waved at them in delight. Cassian smiled, and he wound his wrist around to press a kiss against the back of Bodhi’s hand. Together, they all turned to the evening sky, where stars glittered faintly like dust on a black uniform.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaahhhh!! So sorry this is so very late, but life happens ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯. Thank you so much to everyone who stuck with this story and gave me wonderful comments which I will treasure until someone pries them from my cold, dead hands. I may do an epistolary sequel including Bodhi's diary in the future, but we'll see. You can always find me at beyondantares on tumblr. I love you all!! xx


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